Equivalence
by Cerulean.Phoenix7
Summary: In which Kathryn learns just how deadly similarity can be.
1. I

**Equivalence**

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><p><strong>AN:** Hello again, everyone! Here's my latest work, which I did for the VAMB 2014 Secret Summer exchange. This is for quantumsilver, who asked for "An away mission gone awry. Someone unusual trying to look on the bright side of things. Extra points for mentioning Kashyk, whips, and butter sauce."

For reference, this is set prior to the episode "Investigations" in season 2.

Also, this story does contain some substance abuse, incarceration and mild sexual content.

**Disclaimer**: This world is sadly not my own, I just like dropping in from time to time.

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><p>This was not how she had pictured the away mission ending.<p>

She blinked a few times, glancing left and right at her surroundings. Dark, bleak walls and equally dim lights were suspended in the ceiling above her. A single opening behind her yielded the entrance and only exit. The cell was small, albeit large enough for two people—as evidenced by her present company.

A figure whom she suspected was male lay curled against the wall on the bunk to her left. Their back was turned, so she couldn't get a glimpse of their face. They were dressed in dark clothes with a smattering of holes ripped across their shoulders. Their legs were tucked up in front of them, curled against the wall and away from exposure. The quiet sigh of their breath hinted that they were asleep, or acting as much.

She rose and walked over to the bunk on her right, noting the dark splotches that she knew better than to investigate. The wall was tattooed with scratches and other markings, a visceral storybook of previous captives that the present ones were able to read with chilling understanding. Janeway felt a shiver rush across her skin, raising the hairs on her neck as she ran a nimble finger across one of the gouges. Its edges were smooth, but the cut was deep.

_What have you gotten yourself into now, Kathryn?_

Her morning had begun with simple preparations for an away mission, consisting of the recovery of Dilithium supplies from the Dolman system, an endeavour which had already required several negotiations with the Dolmans. The Dolmans had allowed them into the system on the sole condition that Janeway accompany the team. Naturally, she had accepted.

It was during the excavation that things went awry, beginning with a firefight in the tunnels after communications with the shuttle were jammed. She had taken a blow... well, _somewhere_, and ended up in the cell. Was it even the same planet? Hell, the same solar system? Tuvok had been with her on the planet alongside another security officer, Tom remaining on the shuttle to monitor the supply transfer.

The attack had come so quickly. What had happened to them? Did they make it back to Voyager, or were they in another cell just like hers?

The lights above her flickered, peppering the cell in brief constellations of light. Kathryn turned her head, a loose strand of hair falling over her shoulder. Footsteps drummed gently in the distance, building with the subtle scuff of boots on ground as they drew near. Kathryn watched two guards march past the cell in side-by-side formation, every step in sync with the other. They were dressed in black and their faces were hidden by some sort of cloak. They appeared to be armed.

She resolved to sitting on the edge of her bunk, loose wisps of hair dangling over her eyes as she grasped the edge of the bunk. Waiting was not a preferred pastime of hers, especially when it involved being locked away. She wanted to know why she was being held, and more importantly, who was holding her.

She reached a hand up to her neck, running her fingers along her hairline before drifting down to her collar. When her thumb ran over the fabric at her throat, she found that her pips were missing. The loss of her Combadge was no surprise, but this, on the other hand, was. What would they need her pips for?

Scuffled footsteps halted at the cell entrance, drawing her attention to the doorway. Two guards stood, one by the side and another across the narrow hall. The one closest to the door reached their hand off to the side, entering what Janeway supposed were key codes. A bristling flash washed out from the sides of the door as the force field was deactivated. The guard stepped through and motioned at her.

"You, come."

She stood and paced to the door. Just as she was about to cross the threshold, the guard grabbed her and placed a firm hand over her mouth. Janeway grabbed at their arms, nails digging into the fabric of their uniform. She tried to bite their hand, but their gloves were too thick. An elbow found its way to her ribs and she yelped in pain, her arms falling away. The guard let go of her shoulders and she nearly fell over as she tried to find air. But her relief was only momentary as darkness settled in over her eyes, a newfound fabric pressing taught against them.

There was a subtle but strong nudge against her lower back that unsettled her balance, but she took a step forward anyways. She found the lip of the cell with the front of her boot, carefully stepping over it before the other guard took her arm.

"Follow me." Its voice was deep and muffled, as if it had just spoken from a void.

She had no other option but to be blindly led down the corridor, where a sharp tug at her elbow signalled a turn in their path or a prompt to step over something. A few times she heard the echoes of machinery, drowned either by distance or design. Once she heard a cry, loud and reverberating from the precipice of whatever doom preceded it.

The endpoint of their trek was situated behind a door on hinges that creaked loudly as it opened. She was led in and guided to a chair before they removed her blindfold. The chair was one of a few pieces of furniture in the room, the others being the larger desk and chair set across from her, separated by an ocean of smooth, black floor. The lights were dim, save for the few that hovered over her and the desk. The air felt thick, almost moist, and it seeped into her uniform and skin with chilling ease.

Another door opened, this one shrouded by silence. The only sign that it had opened was the stretch of light that peeled away some of the darkness in the room for a brief moment. When it was gone, she was not alone in the room. A figure strode toward the desk, placing a single three-digit hand on the head of the chair.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway, I presume." They stepped into full view, and Janeway's mouth went dry. "Welcome. We're so pleased to have you here."

The figure was tall and lithe, with broad shoulders and purple skin. Her voice revealed that she was female, along with the hint of breasts beneath her uniform, which was a black suit that clung loosely to her body. A shock of blue hair drifted over one side of her face, which was round and had three eyes. What unnerved Janeway were the teeth, which jutted like glinting knives from her mouth.

Janeway swallowed, squaring her shoulders. "Who are you? Why am I being held hostage?"

The woman sat down in the chair and folded her hands neatly in front of her. "My name is Malock. I'm a monitor at this facility."

"Is that what you call it?"

"You should be grateful you're not dead," Malock replied tersely, running a green tongue over her teeth. "We do not always hold everyone that comes into our facility. Only a few are granted that privilege."

Janeway's brow furrowed. "I'd hardly call _captivity_ a privilege."

Malock's tone was one of dismissal. "Call it what you wish. It's not relevant to this discussion. You and your companions were seeking out Dilithium in the Dolman system when you came under attack. You have had no contact with them since."

Janeway gave a shallow nod. "That's correct."

Malock folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward across the deck, her long neck inching her face closer to Janeway's. "Would you like to contact them?"

Janeway almost spat in her face. The bribe was dripping in tainted promise that made her morning coffee rise in her throat. The rest of the team were either dead, or had escaped. Hopefully.

"My crew is perfectly capable of looking after themselves. I'm sure that whatever fate befalls me will have no impact on that."

Malock's expression flamed at her reply, her skin visibly darkening. She opened a drawer on the side of the desk, reaching in and pulling something out. She dropped a piece of metal onto the table before her. It was gray with blackness curling around the burnt edges. Two red lines ran straight across its surface, just below the beginning of a registry number. It was Starfleet.

Janeway's first reaction was to write it off as a fake or a piece of debris that came off in the attack, but another part of her wondered if perhaps there was more out in space than the piece that Malock had presented before her.

"Your shuttle was destroyed. We rescued your crew and yourself and brought you here. Your crew are also being housed in a facility."

Janeway stood, raising the attention of the guards at the edges of the room. Malock held up a hand, staying them for a moment.

"If my crew is here," said Janeway, "then I will see them, now."

Malock scowled. "I said that they were in _a_ facility, not_ this_ one. Rest assured, Kathryn, that they are also being looked after."

Janeway took a few steps towards Malock's desk, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "What do you want from us? We're explorers from halfway across the galaxy, not mercenaries or thieves!"

Malock smirked, a slight chuckle rumbling behind her pursed lips. "It's not what you've done that concerns me, Kathryn, but what you can do for us."

Janeway raised an eyebrow, loosening her clenched fists and crossing her arms. "And just what might I be able to do for you?"

Malock's response was to stand from her chair and summon the guards from the edge of the room. "You'll know in time. For now, I'm sure you could use some rest and nourishment. The cooks do make a delightful whipped butter sauce." Malock said the last few words with a smile that made Janeway's skin crawl.

Two guards came up to her, each one grabbing her by an arm before pushing her toward the door. One of them took out a strip of dark fabric and Janeway knew she was about to be blindfolded again. The guard swiftly draped it over her eyes and tied it, rendering her blind once more.

When the blindfold was whisked away, Janeway was back in her cell. The lights were dimmed and the sleeping man remained motionless on his bunk. The clatter of metal caught Janeway's attention and shifted it to the cell door, where two guards placed metal trays on the floor, one for each of the cell's occupants. She made no move to touch hers on the immediate suspicion of poison, and instead looked to the guards.

"Why are your people holding mine prisoner? What do you want from us?"

Their swift exit from her cell stood in lieu of a reply. The crackle of the force field being reinitialized was the last sound that met her ears before they stomped off, leaving her wanting for answers more than whatever was hidden under the top of that tray.

The man on the bench stirred, like a dark wave curling over the horizon's edge. She watched his shoulders shift, her own breath trapped in the cage of her ribs as he turned onto his back. He was essentially humanoid save for the distinct brow ridges. He opened his eyes slowly, head listing to the edge of his bunk.

He saw the tray before he noticed her.

He nearly flipped off the bunk, reaching for one of the trays with a fury that she would expect from a starved man. Yet judging by the lack of sallowness in his features, he was far from it. He flipped the top of the tray off like it was paper and smiled at its contents, none of which looked even remotely appealing to Janeway's eye. His expression was altogether different; he was almost gleeful to see the food, driven by something greater than hunger.

It was when he noticed the second tray that his eyes turned to Janeway.

He quickly dragged his tray away, hunching over it while he sat back on his bunk. "Who are you?"

She held up a hand slowly. "Kathryn Janeway."

He gave her a blank stare.

"Fellow prisoner," she added dryly.

He raised his brow, scrunching his facial ridges. "Ah, so they caught you in their web, too? Not surprising."

"What makes you say that?"

He took a bite of what Janeway could only guess was a crude type of bread. "They always bring in new ones. On a regular basis, too. Never the same species twice. They can't have that. Oddly enough, they keep us fed. An exception I don't mind." He noticed her untouched tray. "You should eat. It's not half bad. The whipped butter sauce is surprisingly good."

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

The man shrugged and continued eating.

Janeway leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees and placing one hand beneath her chin. "So what's your story?"

He looked up from his tray briefly, a slight look of surprise on his face. "My story? Afraid there isn't much of one. Much like you and the others here, I was captured while on a scouting mission for supplies. My ship came under attack and the next thing I knew I was here, and I don't have a single clue as to what happened to my ship or crew."

She pursed her lips. "How did you know my story was the same as yours?"

He had a piece of dripping bread halfway to his mouth at that point, but he smiled when she asked. "Good guess I suppose." Then stuffed the bread into his mouth.

She leaned back on her bunk, squaring her shoulders. This man's reactions were a little too enthused for someone that had been locked in a cell for god knows how long. She eyed the tray at her feet and his nearly finished one, knowing that she would not be eating a single thing from hers.

"Do you know why they're holding us?"

He licked his fingers, his lips making a slight pop with each one. "Not really. Aside from the fact that this seems like Malock's pet project and that the guards are as silent as the walls that surround us. I know you want answers, Kathryn, but you aren't going to get any."

She sat up, her shoulders tensing. "I refuse to accept that."

He shrugged. "So be it."

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Hmm?" he replied between slurps of a soupy substance that she tried to ignore.

"You know my name. Seems only fair to exchange the courtesy."

"Kashyk," he replied. "My name is Kashyk."


	2. II

"We need to stop doing this."

He looked up from the rumpled sheets, his naked body speckled with starlight and sweat. "Oh? Haven't you said that the last three times? Yet we always end up here."

She grabbed her robe from the floor, tucking it around the curves of her body. "Don't pin this on me, Tom. You said yes and so did I. We're both equally responsible for this."

By then he'd grabbed his pants from the floor, shuffling himself into them with a lazy ease. "You make it sound like a chore. It isn't." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Look, Kathryn, I know this wasn't expected. Hell, I didn't expect it either! But we're here now, and this may not last, so why don't we enjoy it? Just for now?"

She shrugged his hands away and turned back to her desk. On it was a picture of her and Mark, taken thousands of light-years from where they were now. Was that kind of distance enough to justify this?

"For now, Tom," she replied, turning back to him. "But outside this room, I am your Captain. Nothing more."

He picked up his shirt, tossing it over his head. "Of course. We went through that the first time. I'm not gonna blow my cover just to kiss you in the corridor or something."

She raised a brow. "I certainly hope not!"

He smirked, jostling the last of his clothes on his body. She always appreciated how he got dressed after, the carelessness of it. She was always orderly with hers. The contrast of their habits was refreshing to her.

Tom slipped on his boots and stepped toward her. "Hey," he whispered. "It's gonna be okay."

She smiled lightly. "I know."

The world turned like warped space, and Janeway found herself once again in the cell she shared with Kashyk. She looked to the entrance and then to his bunk, where he was lying his back staring up at the lights. She sat up, rubbing her fingers against her neck. She pulled her collar away from her skin, running two fingers between the fabric and her neck. She found a small, rough patch that was sensitive to touch.

_Is this from…_

Her mind returned to the same night that she had just dreamed about, when Tom's lips were pressed against her neck, teeth grazing her skin and his hands firmly cupping her breasts…

She pushed the thoughts away, better to focus on the current situation and leave her emotional qualms to be settled once she was back on Voyager. She pushed some hair away from her face and cupped her forehead. She knew she had more than just her time with Tom to think about if she got back.

"Sleep well?"

Janeway looked up. "What?"

Kashyk turned his head from the ceiling. "Did you sleep well?"

Janeway sighed and pushed herself into a sitting position. "Well enough." She looked up at the lights, each one quartered off behind the ceiling grate. The light struck the cell floor in splashes of sandy yellow squares; it was the one ounce of colour she could find in the cell.

"You like looking at the lights, too?"

Janeway glanced up from the floor to find Kashyk staring at her. "Hmm? No, not really. Though I suppose there isn't much to look at in here."

Kashyk nodded solemnly before turning his attention back to the ceiling.

Janeway leaned forward on her bunk, one hand curling over the rough edge. The metal was frigid against her palm.

"How long have you been in here?"

Kashyk's head wobbled against his hands on the bunk, almost without apparent effort. "Weeks. Months, perhaps. I stopped counting. Though I suppose it could be worse."

Kathryn felt herself recoil at his words. She wasn't sure which part disturbed her more: his forgetfulness or his optimism. Hope was always a harbour one could search for, but abandoning it entirely? The notion baffled her.

"Do you really think that?"

Kashyk nodded. "Of course."

Janeway's voice hardened. "We're trapped in a cell awaiting who knows what and you think things could really be worse?"

"We could be dead," Kashyk added quietly. He turned his face in her direction. "I can't imagine many things worse than that."

"What's important right now is that we're not, and we're not going to be," Janeway replied, standing up and walking over to Kashyk's bunk. "Complacency may be a way to make things a little easier, but I'm not willing to settle for that. A cage is a cage, but it always has its weaknesses."

Kashyk stared at her with a blank expression. "You don't see it, do you? There is no way to break out! I've learned that the hard way. I've also learned to make the best of things. We're lucky we're even fed!"

Janeway leaned over his bunk, inching her face closer into his space. "And how long do you think that will last? For whatever reason, they've kept you fed so far, but they could easily change that. They could take away the food just as easily as they've given it." Kashyk's face paled and she stood back up, her hands falling to her sides. "You want to think that you have some control here, Kashyk. I can't fault you for that. But what you have to understand is that you have no control here. None of us do. We're rats in a cage, waiting to plucked out."

Kashyk's expression was nothing short of dumbfounded, and his silence seemed more like a resignation than anything else. Janeway settled herself back on her bunk and turned her eyes towards the door, away from Kashyk. Her chest and throat felt tight from the reality that she'd so plainly crystallized. Her heart started racing when she heard footsteps resounding off the corridor walls, coupled with the scuff of dirt on the soles of boots.

_No, not again._

A pair of guards marched past their cell a moment later, both shrouded in full black attire. Janeway waited a moment, expecting them to waltz into the cell and grab her again. Neither one gave the cell any notice. She exhaled in relief, her lungs expanding painfully as they reached for air.

A few moments later she heard the scuffling again, this time in a more rapid fashion. Her pulse climbed, beating rapidly beneath her it was wasn't interested in wasting time.

Two guards appeared in front of the cell…and stopped. Kathryn gripped the edge of her bunk, her legs going numb. They looked exactly the same as the two that had passed only moments before. Were they the same ones?

_They all look the same here, Kathryn._

One of the guards entered a code that deactivated the force field and stepped over the lip of the entrance. "You two. Come with us."

Janeway froze. "Why?"

"Don't bother asking questions, Kathryn," Kashyk added, standing by while the second guard prepared a blindfold for him.

Her heartbeat escalated further when she noticed that two more guards had appeared at the entrance. Had the ones from before come back?

One of the guards grabbed her forearm and dragged her toward the door, where another had a blindfold in wait. She tried to resist, pushing against him. He didn't budge. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, digging her nails into his arm. "I want to know what's—"

She felt a sharp prick in her neck, and the last of her words were drowned in the abyss of unconsciousness.


	3. III

The light was the first thing that woke her, coupled by the stiffness in her neck and a sharp cramp in her foot. Janeway quickly rolled up into a sitting position and looked around, rubbing a hand against her rigid neck in the process. She had to blink a few times to ensure that her eyes were not deceiving her, squinting at each of the walls to make sure that they the same ones she had last seen.

She was still in her cell.

Or rather, she'd been put back after they'd performed whatever madness for which they originally brought her here. She quickly checked her hands for marks before running a daring finger along her collar and up against her hairline. Nothing. A brief glance at her uniform told her that that had also been untouched. She sighed, her exhale alerting her to the coiled tension in her shoulders. She rolled them a few times to try and work out the muscles, but it made little difference.

Kashyk had been returned as well, though he was sound asleep on his bunk and snoring lightly. Oddly, he looked like he'd undergone a change of clothing during his absence, as his originally black shirt appeared to be a moderate shade of blue now. It was also in better condition than his previous attire.

Janeway felt sick. Perhaps food wasn't the only thing they were feeding her cellmate.

Janeway leaned forward, hoping not to raise her voice. "Kashyk."

He stirred. "Hmmph?" He rolled over onto his side and blinked wearily, though his eyes widened considerably when he noticed Janeway. He sat up rapidly, shoulders scrunched against his chin.

"Who are you?"

She held up a hand to try and calm him. "My name's Kathryn, remember?" She figured that they must have drugged him, or done something to affect his memory.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his face remained a jigsaw puzzle of confusion. "No. I've never seen you before in my life."

She held her gaze with Kashyk, hoping that she might stir an inkling of familiarity, but there were none. His expression never wavered from the placid fog of confusion that had held him since he'd awoken.

There was a loud, thunderous pounding outside the cell which crescendoed into half a dozen guards appearing at their doorstep. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs. There was nothing about the situation that portended a good outcome. Her muscles clamped tightly beneath her skin and her teeth clenched as she watched them. Why were they back so soon?

One stepped through the door after the field had been deactivated and motioned for her, though this time they did not blind her. When she didn't move two guards took one of her arms each, holding them tight against her body so she could not escape while the other four surrounded them. She looked at each of them, their faces cloaked. Not one gave her a second glance. They began a steady strut down the corridor and made a turn into a wider corridor. In the center of the corridor was another passageway, outlined in dark metal. Janeway glanced down the passage as they passed by, where a single man stood only feet from the opening. Janeway recognized him.

…_Kashyk?_

Before she could confirm the sight, they turned another corner, where a large, steely door faced them. One guard opened it and let the rest of them pass.

Inside the room were blank walls in some shade of taupe, with a single chair in the center of the room. The chair was heavily padded, restraints found at the wrists and feet. To one side of the chair stood a small table tray that held an array of tools. Janeway gulped. While most of them looked benign, she knew not to take ease in their deceptive simplicity; a few of the instruments had subtly sharp edges that could easily morph into malignancy at the slightest touch. The guards were hardly gentle with their touch, shoving her onto the chair and restraining her while nearly feeding her from the barrel of their weapons. When she looked up the guard closest to her had let their cloak come loose, revealing their face.

It was Kashyk.

_How?_

Several explanations charged at her at once, and trying to quiet them was useless. Logic had abandoned her to blindfolds and incarceration, where madness found easy purchase. Janeway sat stunned as they fastened the last of the restraints and Kashyk replaced his cloak.

Sweat beaded on her brow. What happened now?

The door, which Janeway had her back to, moaned a deep, creaking, yawn and opened. The half-dozen guards attending her all looked up, almost paralyzed by whoever had just entered the room.

"You may leave us," said Malock.

The guards dispersed like flies in a harsh fall wind, swept out of the room and quickly forgotten.

Malock's pale skin had an ominous gleam in the lighting of the room, her triad of amber eyes darkened by something more than just flesh and blood. Her lips were a flat line, the corners taut like a bowstring.

"Welcome to Extraction, Captain."

The way Malock's expression curled into a pleased smile when she said that made Janeway's stomach turn. Dread burrowed its way into her body. Her nails dug into the fabric of the chair as she tried to inhale. Whatever Extraction was, it could not bode well for her fate in this accursed facility.

"Welcome to what?" she snapped angrily. Her voice was breaking.

Malock sneered, circling Janeway. "This is where the true purpose of our enterprise takes place. You are about to become a part of a sacred practice that we call _Kamuter_. It is the life and breath of our society, and for the past twenty cycles I have been the Overseer of its operation. I ensure that the heart of Kamuter remains healthy, that its arteries and veins remain open for the passage of new products."

Janeway recoiled in shock. "_Products_?"

"The clones. You saw them, just before you came in here. And earlier, in your cell. Kashyk is one of our newest products. Quite charming, I must say." Malock paused, hovering near the table of instruments to Janeway's left. "We ensure that there are always replacements for our products, Kathryn. They are prepared and trained just as any of the others, taught about the lives they will lead once they are given their mission."

Janeway shook her head. "What mission?"

Malock folded her hands in front of her, her lilac brow creasing. "To be sent back where they came from. Their ship, their homeworld; it doesn't matter. They go there as part of the Kamuter, and they are replaced if trouble arises. When the mission is completed, we follow."

It dawned on Janeway like a supernova. This wasn't just some incarceration facility. It was an invasion base.

The Dolmans were using the clones to take over other worlds. And now they had her, and possibly others.

Janeway swallowed, her muscles taut with anger and fear. "Why tell me all of this if you plan to use me the same way? Won't I spoil your Kamuter?"

Malock let out something that Janeway could only place as a deluded chuckle. "You forget that it will not be you that returns to your ship, Kathryn, but a product. Your shuttle released a distress beacon just before destruction. Addressed to a _U.S.S. Voyager_, it would seem."

Janeway felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Her heart pounded in her chest. "And what if my ship isn't what you're looking for? Why waste the resources?"

Malock's expression hardened. "For your sake, I hope it's not. We don't like to waste time."

"Overseer Malock," chimed a voice, from everywhere and nowhere.

"What is it?"

"There is a shuttle approaching on low power. It has the same configuration as the one we attacked five days ago."

_Five days?_ Janeway remarked wearily. _Has it really only been five days?_

There was a brief glimmer of surprise that washed over Malock's face, but a moment later it was replaced with vehement frustration.

"They aren't supposed to be here, yet!" she hissed before heading for the door. As it opened, the shuffle of footsteps greeted the creak of the hinges, and Malock ushered the guards back in. "Begin the Extraction."

A flurry of white flooded the room. Medical personnel, Janeway assumed. Everything felt too close, the climax of the previous events collapsing into a singularity that threatened to swallow her entire life. She had to escape; there had to be a way. They moved quickly, two on her left and one monitoring her from the foot of the chair. Janeway felt a drop of sweat curl over her brow. Her collar felt tight around her throat, the material starting to bind to her skin. Her heart raced like a drum at presto with no sign of stopping.

One of the doctors leaned in close to her. "Don't worry," he said calmly with a slight lilt in his voice. "Everything will be fine."

Janeway spat in his face only moments before the Phaser fire began in the corridor. Shouts rang out, echoing off the walls and into the chamber. The doctor who stood at her side one moment was gone in the next, swallowed by the madness that had erupted beyond. She pushed against the restraints, but they didn't give. She released a huff of frustration. If whoever was out there wasn't friendly she was about to have another set of problems on her hands.

"Captain," a voice interjected.

Janeway turned her head in time to see Tuvok enter the room with a phase-compression rifle in hand. Relief washed over her like energy from a newborn star. Her eyes watered and she quickly blinked to stifle the oncoming tears.

"Tuvok!"

He quickly went to work on her restraints, undoing them in moments. "Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes. How did you escape the Dolmans' facility?"

Puzzlement crossed Tuvok's face as he loosened one of the bindings. "I was never captured by the Dolmans, nor were any other members of the away mission save for yourself. Mister Paris and I led the away mission to find you and extract you from this facility."

A spark of relief ignited inside her. _Tom_, she thought briefly.

Once Tuvok had finished with the last of the restraints she stood from the medical chair and made for the door. "Let's not delay our departure. Where are the others?"

Tuvok met her at the door, glancing around the perimeter as stray Phaser shots whizzed past. One narrowly missed Tuvok's face. "Mister Paris should be with the remaining personnel. I informed him to meet us at the rendezvous point." He fired a few shots down the corridor, extinguishing the last of the enemy fire before motioning to Janeway's left. "Our path is that way, Captain. There is an exit approximately sixty meters from here."

She almost ran the distance. Her mind urged her onward, quickly seeking escape. _Get out, get out_, she thought as her feet pounded against the ground. What had surely only been a few minutes felt much longer, stretched on an elastic temporal band that was pulled to the maximum. Rooms flew by like stars at warp speed, momentarily noticed but quickly forgotten. She spotted one brightly lit in neon blue like an ocean that was filled with stars. She paused, only for a moment, to look in. In the center of the room were six circular floor panels that were lit from below. The rest of the room was speckled with dots arrayed in myriad patterns that reached into every nook and cranny.

She squinted at one that was just beyond her fingertips, and then she knew.

"They're constellations," she whispered.

Tuvok had also stopped, hearing her words before offering an urgent protest. "Captain, we do not have time to delay."

Behind them, Phaser shots echoed off the corridors. They were onto them.

She turned away from the Phaser fire and ran. Tuvok was only steps behind her. The end of the corridor was a T-junction. Tuvok directed her to the left, coming alongside her to check for any guards.

A volley of Phaser fire came in answer.

Tuvok and Janeway ducked behind the edge of the adjoining corridor as Phaser fire rang past them. Tuvok quickly handed her a Hand Phaser before firing off a few shots around the corner. Three times as many shots countered his.

When those shots ended Kathryn turned around the corner and aimed her Phaser, searching for a target. She saw darkness. A shot blazed past her right shoulder, burning into a nearby wall panel. She adjusted her aim and fired. Her shot ignited a blast of sparks from behind their opponents, but there was no sign that she'd hit her target.

She retreated behind the edge again as Tuvok prepared to take another shot. This time she heard two distinct grunts, likely guards being impacted by Tuvok's shots. Tuvok quickly darted back around the corner as more Phaser fire screamed past them.

"There appear to have been six guards obstructing our path."

"And now?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Four."

She let out a sigh. Four was better than six, but still an ugly number to deal with. She shoved some loose tangles of hair away from her face and moved to fire again, this time with Tuvok.

The guards were there waiting for them as they rounded the corner.

Janeway was startled, and the guards took advantage. One moved for her shoulders while another tried to tackle her legs. She lost sight of Tuvok in her own struggle as one of the guards secured his arms around her neck. In the tangle of limbs the other one managed to upturn her legs, sending her tumbling to the ground. She elbowed one of them somewhere. She heard a yelp of surprise just before the arm around her neck loosened. She pried it off her before moving to her legs, where the other guard was trying to pin her to the ground. She swiftly kicked her knee upwards, catching him in the gut, but it wasn't enough to knock him out. He climbed over her, hands wrangling at her throat. She pushed him away. He was stronger. His hands clasped at her neck, fingers pressing down. Her lungs wailed in protest. She scrabbled at his hands and punched his chest before she pushed back against him, flipping them both. Without pause, she took both hands, joined them, and landed a firm blow across his face. He didn't move.

She stood up and looked for Tuvok, who she found standing above the other two guards. Both were unconscious.

"We should continue, Captain," he said without wavering.

She nodded, and they kept moving. They proceeded quickly, her heart hammering in her ears at every turn. When they finally reached the exit it was almost imperceptible against the backdrop of greys and taupes. The door was a dark slate, pressed firmly into the wall. The edges of the frame were kissed with burns. Tuvok went to work on the control panel while Janeway held his Phaser rifle and watched the perimeter.

The crunch of stone vaulted her to attention, raising the rifle at the corner that they had passed only moments before. She quickly tucked the Hand Phaser into her belt and raised the rifle. Her muscles were taut beneath her skin, every inch of her body was coiled like a system of springs. Janeway checked her aim and prepared to fire.

Tom Paris came rushing down the corridor. Janeway lowered the weapon with a huff. "A little warning next time, Mister Paris."

He nodded with a smirk as the other security officers came up behind him. "Yes, ma'am. Nice to see you too."

Tom peeked over her shoulder at Tuvok, who was manipulating a series of wires from the underside of the panel. "How does it look, Tuvok?"

Tuvok didn't look up from his work. "It looks like a Lieutenant that should be keeping quiet so I can complete my work."

Tom's face squirmed at the comment, but he appeared to shrug it off before retrieving a Tricorder out of his belt. He held up to Janeway and spoke more softly. "Just before we left their medical ward I downloaded a chunk of their database. Might help the Doc to make sense of whatever they were doing here."

"I can probably do that just as well," she whispered, trying not to picture the Extraction room.

A brief look of puzzlement passed over Tom's face before concern wrangled it away and made from for horror. She dared to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook her head, mouthing '_no_' to try and ease his worry. She knew that he would immediately dash to the darker side of possibility, but she would stop him before he plunged too far into that line of thinking.

A brief chirp sounded from the panel, and Tuvok stood just as the door opened. The world outside was a wasteland of burgundy sand pocketed with obsidian rocks and rippled by the wind. Though there wasn't any particularly harsh wind at the moment, she suspected that could change very rapidly.

She took a step out the door before the Phaser fire began.

She quickly passed her weapon back to Tuvok as Tom urged her onward, covering her from incoming shots. Janeway stumbled out onto the sand with a female security officer on her heels. She helped Janeway up and got her moving out into the desert. The sand swallowed Janeway's feet with every step, which made walking difficult and running nearly impossible. Tom leaped out of the building with another security officer, a tall male, while Tuvok and the last two team members sealed the hatch. They rushed toward her and the officer, sand gobbling up their footsteps as they went. Janeway hoped that the door would hold.

"Now what?"

The security officer that had helped her up looked over, the dark sunlight catching in her red hair. "Lieutenant Tuvok will have a plan, Captain."

Janeway nodded, watching the rest of the away team approach. "He always seems to, Ensign…"

"Ensign Tighe, Captain," she replied.

A slight shudder ran through Janeway, but she shook it off as Tom and Tuvok reached them. "Tuvok, I think it would be best if we didn't remain here much longer!"

Tuvok shouldered his weapon and nodded, taking out his Tricorder. "I concur, Captain."

Before Tuvok could enter the commands into his tricorder, the hatch broke. Dozens of Dolman guards poured from it onto the red wasteland.

Then the Phaser fire began.

Janeway rolled over the top of the dune they were perched on, Tom on her heels.

Ensign Tighe raised her weapon to fire. She was met by a direct blast to her chest.

She fell to the sand and rolled down the dune, past her and Tom. Kathryn knew she was dead before her body reached the bottom.

"Tuvok!" Tom yelled. "We need to get out of here!"

Tuvok and the other two security guards ambled over the top of the dune, but one of them took a hit to the head and never made it to the bottom. Their smouldering body emitted a small trail of smoke.

Kathryn swallowed to try and keep what little was in her stomach in check.

Tuvok reached them both and entered the keys on his Tricorder and the desert vanished in a stream of transporter energy, rendering them again on board a shuttlecraft. Tom and Tuvok immediately took the helm while Janeway moved behind them.

An impact rocked the shuttle before she could settle herself and sent them all flying, turning the interior of the shuttle into a spinning mess that was broken by the flashing lights of the Red Alert signs. Janeway reached for a console, chair, something to help her regain her bearings, but she found none. After a moment the shuttle righted itself and the lights came back on, and Janeway looked up to see Tom madly inputting commands into the helm while Tuvok took over the tactical. She clambered up behind Tuvok's chair as Tom opened a hailing channel.

"Tom to Chakotay! NOW!"

From her vantage point she watched as Voyager jumped into the system, Phasers blazing through space like fiery ribbons. Voyager flew over the shuttle, allowing Tom to bring them around as the ship engaged the Dolmans. They may have been outnumbered three to one, but there was no doubt in Janeway's mind that the Dolmans were outmatched in terms of firepower. Voyager fired its Phasers again, igniting parts of the hull on one of the Dolmans' ships. Another lost half a flank in a bright inferno that tore the ship apart. As Tom guided the shuttle into the shuttle bay, Janeway watched the Dolmans' remaining ships fall into retreat.

It was over.


	4. IV

"Whipped butter sauce?!" the Doctor exclaimed. "A more accurate adjective would have been _wicked_ butter sauce, given its contents."

The Doctor had spent the better part of an hour examining her and asking her questions about the time she had spent in the Dolmans' facility. In conjunction with the medical records that Tom was able to extract and her testimony, the Doctor was compiling a report on her capture and treatment.

To her relief, her injuries had been fairly minor, and there were only trace amounts of sedative in her system. She had told him that she hadn't ingested any of the sauce, a fortunate turn of events, since the Doctor had found records that labelled it as an incredibly powerful hallucinogen.

She was also relieved that the Doctor hadn't questioned her too greatly on the deaths of the two security officers. The notion of having to file not one but two deaths into the ship's record induced a whole other kind of dread in her.

Janeway crossed her legs on the Bio-Bed. "Do the records say why it was created?"

The Doctor pursed his lips and shook his head. "There's no explicit explanation that I can find save that it was used to control the prisoners, making them more cooperative and suggestible. But they've been using this drug for years, Captain. The records extend back over a decade, and that's only from the files that Mister Paris retrieved."

Kes, who had been working alongside the Doctor, chimed in. "If they've had this drug for so long, then they've had time to perfect it. It could have taken them even longer to accomplish that."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "That's the unfortunate reality. Beyond this ten-year period, we have no idea of how or why they used this compound. Though I'm relieved that you weren't exposed to it. Long-term effects suggest potential nerve damage and neural degradation…among other things."

Janeway raised an eyebrow, settling her chin upon the closed fist of her hand. "Do the records make any mentions of the cloning operation? Were the drugs tied to the clones themselves?"

The Doctor crossed his arms. "None that I can see. Beyond the original donors, the drugs don't appear to have had any influence upon the cloning operation. Though that in itself is simultaneously a biological miracle and a political nightmare." The Doctor walked over to his desk and picked up the PADD that was perched on its edge. "I did some further reading on this _Kamuter_ process that you mentioned. It appears to be a major component of the Dolmans' way of life. They move from sector to sector, civilization to civilization, conquering by subterfuge. These clones serve as scouts and spies into the civilizations that they then conquer."

Both Janeway and Kes were stunned by the news. Though Janeway had already been privy to a great deal of that information, hearing it so plainly made it even more chilling. The Delta Quadrant had no shortage of wonders, but also a plethora of horrors that overshadowed even the grisliest of nightmares.

Janeway broke the silence with a shallow monotone. "I think it's safe to say that Malock had a similar plan for Voyager. I can only hope that that never becomes a reality."

"If you're back on Voyager," Kes interjected, "I think it'll be more difficult for them to carry out that plan."

Janeway smiled briefly. "I certainly hope so."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "While this is all rather fascinating, I do have work to do. You're free to go, Captain, but no active duty for another twenty-four hours. In that time, I expect you to get some rest."

Janeway hopped off the Bio-Bed and adjusted her uniform. "Are you going to have someone check on me, or are you really letting me off that easily?"

The Doctor grimaced. "Is that sarcasm, or are you purposely mocking me?"

Janeway held up a hand. "Never mind. Thank you, Doctor."

She watched the Doctor turn back to his office, shaking his head and mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath. Janeway paid it no mind. Kes stood nearby, a curious glint in her eyes.

"Captain, you mentioned that you were taken at some point. Do you think that the Dolmans…harvested any of your genetic material?"

Janeway paused, noting Kes' trepidation as well as her own. She still had no idea what had happened after she had been sedated, and the endless possibilities offered her no further comfort. The idea of her own clones walking about was enough to fuel several nightmares, some of which would probably come to haunt her in the near future.

She placed her hands on Kes' shoulders. "To be perfectly honest…I don't know. A part of me thinks that they didn't, given how specific they were with their Extraction process. But another part says that anything is possible. Cloning only requires a shred of genetic material, something that they could have easily acquired from me."

Kes nodded. "Cloning is something that I've only just learned about, thanks to the Doctor. But it's such a remarkable technology. Why would someone abuse it in such a way? I think about how it could be used to create new organs or tissues, and yet people seem to choose to use it to further their own agendas. Doesn't there seem to be something wrong with that?"

Hollowness opened within Janeway when she heard that, allowing truth to burrow further into her. The disheartening reality was not unique to the Dolmans way of life. They looked to the best interest of their race rather than others, and that had spread throughout the generations into a society that focused solely on Kamuter—"the Switch".

"Yes," Janeway replied at last. "There is." She gave Kes a single pat on the shoulder and excused herself from Sickbay.

* * *

><p><em>Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 49464.7:<em>

_It's been almost a week since our encounter with the Dolmans and my escape from their cloning facility. There have been no further signs of their ships, or any of their so-called 'products'. I don't know where my former cellmate Kashyk originally came from, but given the number of clones that the Dolmans had of him, he was likely of great importance._

_Despite Voyager's destination being in the opposite direction of Dolman space, I can't quite shake the feeling that this ordeal has been left open-ended. I'm not one to hold onto loose threads, but something tells me that we haven't seen the last of the Dolmans or of Kashyk._

* * *

><p>The chime to her quarters rang only minutes after she had finished her log entry. Despite all the lights remaining active in her quarters, it was well into the night, which left her questioning who it could be. She stood from her chair and set aside her copy of Dante, adjusting her shirt before answering the door.<p>

"Come in."

When the door opened, none other than Tom Paris stood before the frame. He took a few steps inside and let the door close behind him. They both knew not to let the other linger outside their quarters late at night.

Tom shuffled his feet. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better." She motioned for the seat across from hers and let Tom sit down.

She swept a hand through her long hair, which she'd let down from her usual bun. There was a little too much silence between them this time, but a part of her wasn't entirely eager to breach it.

Tom did that for her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, letting a hand fall onto her book. "Not really." She shifted her gaze from him to her window. "I've spent so much time being around people that I don't know and having everything I do watched and every word recorded, whether it be for testing or a report, that I just want to be alone."

Tom nodded, his eyes glancing towards his boots. She could feel him withdrawing, coiling back into the cocoon he so rarely inhabited.

"This just isn't a good time for talking, Tom. Not for me."

"You never were one for talking much, were you?"

She nearly slapped him. "What the hell does that mean?"

Tom stood up rapidly. "Every time we meet we don't talk. We jump into bed. Because that's what you want. You don't want to talk about us, or even for us to talk like two regular people do. Face it, Kathryn, we're in this. We have to try and work on it, don't we?"

She stood up with him, standing close to him. "I don't know what you think we are, but there is nothing official about you and I. I am still your commanding officer and I said I don't want to talk about it, and that is my _final_ word!"

She picked up her Dante and marched for her room, hoping to block Tom off so that he'd leave.

"It's not your fault, y'know."

She stopped, caught by the last hook of his words. She turned back, heart in her throat. _Was he referring to…?_

"What isn't?" she asked, tucking her book against her chest.

Tom's hands fell to his sides. "Tighe and Rollins. I talked to Tuvok after what happened. Both of them would have died for you any day."

She felt her heart flare, anger surging through her veins. "Is that supposed to comfort me? I have to log the deaths of two of my crew and _that's_ what you have to say about it?"

Tom threw his hands up. "What the hell else do you expect me to say? Look, I know this has been awful but I want to help. Kathryn…I just want to help."

She bit her lip, her throat tight. She set her copy of Dante down on the nearby table and crossed her arms. "I know."

Tom moved closer to her, arms open. She let him get close but put a hand against his chest to give her a momentary buffer. "I know you want to help, but sometimes you can't. There are some burdens that a captain must carry alone, and this is one of them."

Tom lowered his arms and nodded solemnly. "I guess it is."

She motioned for the door and whispered quietly. "You're dismissed."

Tom turned and walked to the door. Just before he reached it he turned back to her. "Until next time, then?"

Janeway stiffened, altogether uncertain. Where she once had one idea of the future, she now had a smudged vision that served no purpose.

"I don't know," she answered at last.

Tom left without another word.

* * *

><p>Fin<p> 


End file.
